


You're late

by loonyloopylou



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopylou/pseuds/loonyloopylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint’s heart was pounding as he quickly walked through the castle towards where the meeting was taking place.  It wasn’t because he had been running, or because he had only just finished Quidditch practice and was racing to make it to the meeting on time.  </p>
<p>No, his heart was pounding because he was late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're late

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempts at an Avengers fanfiction and it just had to be a Hogwarts AU because Harry Potter is just awesome. Plus, there are never enough Hogwarts AU fanfics in this fandom ;)
> 
> Sadly, I own nothing... :(

Clint’s heart was pounding as he quickly walked through the castle towards where the meeting was taking place. It wasn’t because he had been running, or because he had only just finished Quidditch practice and was racing to make it to the meeting on time. No, his heart was pounding because he was late. Not just a bit late, not a ‘sorry I’m late my watch is running a bit slow’ or a ‘sorry, I got held up because I was just finishing homework’ (not that Clint did all that much himself, anyway). This was a whole hour late, the type of late that can’t really be explained away as being a little bit careless or forgetful.

Now, if this was a meeting with a professor Clint wouldn’t have been all that stressed out. He would turn the charm up to ten and try to casually flirt his way out of any kind of trouble he was in. But, this was a meeting with the Head Boy who also happened to be one of his friends. Plus, the meeting had been set up a week ago and he had been told (non stop) to turn up on time, early if he could, because it was Phil’s first official meeting as Head Boy. Yeah, Clint was such a shit friend.

Also, if you add in the fact that Clint maybe possibly had the slightest crush on Phil, then his heart was practically jumping out of his throat.

Clint knocked on the door so quietly that he hoped no one could even hear it and attempted to slip into the room as silently as possible. He didn’t think any of his co-prefects even noticed him walking in, they were all so busy taking notes, scared shitless that Phil would end up sending someone to the hospital wing with a flick of his wand. Again.

“-that will be all for today, do any of you have anything else you’d like to mention?”

Oh shit, he arrived at the end. He was officially the worst friend ever.

“Barton, do you have any comments on the meeting?” Phil asked, staring at Clint. His eyes were cold and if he could fire curses with his eyes, then Clint would be dead a thousand times over.

“Uhh, yeah I guess I - uh - agree with everything that was said. Yeah…” Clint mumbled. Phil blinked slowly. Fuck he was so in trouble.

“Is that all you have to say? You usually don’t shut up, come on Barton, I’m sure you want to say something.” Phil repeated. The room was so silent you could here a pin drop. All eyes in the room were flicking between him and Phil like this was a verbal tennis match. Clint wished someone would sneeze or something.

“I, uh, don’t really know what to say, I was late, sorry.” Clint said trying to convey as much feeling into the sentence as possible.

“Yes Barton, you were.” Phil paused to take a look at his watch and said, “An hour late. I don’t even know why you bothered. So, if no one has anything more eloquent than what Barton contributed I think it’s time we finished. Meeting dismissed.”

The prefects practically shot out of their chairs and dashed for the door, a couple even dropping their quills and scrolls of parchment on the way out. Clint tried to escape with them not wanting to face the Head Boy’s wrath at that exact moment.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Phil said from the desk at the front of the room.

“The meeting ended, I just thought you’d like me to leave with the rest of them…” Clint trailed off when he saw the thunderous expression on Phil’s face. Clint could always be counted on to make matters worse.

“Why?” Phil asked quietly, but the underlying anger was almost bursting through his calm façade.

“Why what?” Clint knew this ‘playing dumb’ idea would never work, Phil could see right through him.

“Why were you late?”

“I fell asleep, I’m sorry, it was a complete accide-”

“You fell asleep?! I needed you here Clint, I was scared and you didn’t even bother turning up!” Phil stood up from where he was sat on the edge of the table and walked slowly towards him. “Great, thanks mate.” That last word was almost spat at him. Clint never knew it would hurt so much to have Phil this angry with him.

“Look, I didn’t mean to! I’ve had a busy week, I was tired and I am really sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” Clint promised, forcefully, trying to make sure that Phil knew that he was serious, knew that he was being completely honest with him.

“You just don’t get it, do you? I needed you, and you weren’t here.” Phil almost whispered, the anger having drained from his body. Now he just looked disappointed, upset even, and that didn’t make Clint feel any better at all.

Clint opened his mouth to apologise again when Phil stepped away from him and walked out of the door without a word and without looking back. Clint was fucked.

**

When Clint had a problem or had a bad mark on an essay he went to the Quidditch pitch. Today was no different.

Clint walked slowly but with purpose towards the open doors next to the Great Hall with his broom and quaffle in hand. He was a chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team (the best player with the best aim in decades apparently) and he took the sport seriously. He never missed a shot.

Quidditch was when he did his best thinking, as shooting the quaffle towards the hoops calmed him and cleared his mind. He knew that he had to do something substantial for Phil to show how sorry he was and every time he tried thinking of a solution he could hear a voice that was suspiciously similar to Natasha’s telling him to _“just ask him out, for fucks sake”_. Hmm.

He threw the quaffle continuously toward the hoops as night fell and the sky darkened. He realised that he would need to get back in soon before he was locked out for the night. That was an experience he did not want to relive on a cold September night.

**

Clint woke early the next morning to his stomach rumbling. He forgot that he missed dinner the night before. Whoops. He got up and showered and did everything he possibly could to make himself look presentable after a night of tossing and turning in bed without sleep.

Clint looked at his watch. If he couldn’t think of a solution in the next hour then Phil would get down to breakfast and all Clint could do was apologise like an idiot again. He had to have a plan and he knew just the girl to help him.

**

Clint threw himself down on the bench at the Slytherin table and turned to Natasha with pleading eyes. She was currently sat reading the Daily Prophet that was lying on the table in front of her, eating some disgustingly healthy looking cereal. He opened his mouth about to explain the situation when she turned to him and announced loudly, “You’re fucked.” One of the early rising professors turned and gave them a dirty look that they both ignored.

“Thanks Nat, that was helpful. And how do you know already?!” Clint asked.

“Hey, I know everything around here…” Her eyes shone with mischief. Why was he even her friend. Ugh.

“I need help, Phil hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. Stop being so dramatic.” She said, turning back to the Prophet.

“Yes he does, I’m not being dramatic! He fucking hates me! I thought I was getting somewhere and that he liked me and now he hates me. Nat, help, please?” He turned his wounded puppy look up to max and she just exhaled a suffering sigh at him.

“I’m not coming anywhere between you little lovebirds getting it on. You need to do something, I don’t think I can survive all this pining without smacking my head against the wall for much longer.” Natasha stated bluntly. Ahh, this was why he liked Nat, straight to the point with no fuss.

“That will never work, Nat…”

“Oh really? I have people who would highly recommend my match making. Take Cap’ and Bucky over there, all that is thanks to me whipping their arses into shape. Take it from me, you’ll be a lot happier if you just take my advice.”

“This is different, Nat. We didn’t grow up together and love each other since we were, like, nine.” Clint pointed out. He had to admit, all this denying was even starting to bore him now.

“Just try it. Here’s your chance. Just remember, he’s only so angry at you now because he likes and trusts you so much.” She hissed in his ear before snatching her copy of the Prophet from the table and walking out of the hall. And because she likes to meddle she stopped Phil on his way to the Gryffindor table and waved her arm in Clint’s direction. Phil nodded fractionally and changed his direction so he was now walking towards Clint. Shit.

‘Deep breaths Barton, deep breaths. _’_ He thought as Phil got close enough that Clint could hear his footsteps.

Phil sat down opposite Clint quietly and started buttering his toast. Clint tried to keep eating his breakfast without choking or missing his mouth but his task was made more difficult when he kept risking glances at Phil. Their knees brushed under the table and it took all of Clint’s concentration not to inhale his food as he jerked his knee away as quickly as possible. The sharp intake of breath, though, couldn’t be helped.

“Are you alright?” Phil asked with this annoyingly concerned expression. Phil was supposed to be angry with him, he wasn’t supposed to be caring and so fucking nice to him.

“Yeah.” Clint coughed, “I’m sorry about yesterday, I was a dick for falling asleep and forgetting to go to the meeting. I really am sorry.” He looked up directly into Phil’s blue eyes and for a moment forgot where he was. He never thought he would end up being such a fucking cliché.

“Me too, I overreacted. I shouldn’t have got so upset, it’s just I really wanted you there. It‘s stupid, I know…” Phil trailed off as he looked down, embarrassed about what he had revealed.

“It’s not stupid, I feel awful. I meant what I said yesterday, you know. About doing whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“I can’t think of anything and I forgive you anyway, so it doesn’t matter” Phil said matter-of-factly. That was unexpected, Clint had been prepared to actually beg for forgiveness.

‘Well, it’s now or never’

Clint thought.

“Maybe we could go to the Three Broomsticks this weekend?” Clint offered, hopefully.

“Yeah, sure, I could go over in detail what we discussed at the meeting. Make sure you’re fully up to date.” Phil smiled. What? No, that’s not what Clint meant. Why was Phil making this so difficult for him?

“Uhhh, Phil, I sorta meant that maybe we could go _together_. You know, a date. Maybe?” Clint stammered out. Smooth.

Phil blushed as he looked up from where he seemed to be staring intently at his empty breakfast plate. He looked shocked. Clint sat there, internally wincing, awaiting the rejection and Phil saying something like _‘Oh no, really, I could never date you. Haha!’._

“Yeah, sure, that should be fun. I promise not to bore you with boring Head Boy and Prefect stuff.” Phil said, his cheeks still flushed pink. Clint’s head shot up so fast that he swore his neck clicked.

“Wait what?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” Phil asked, incredulously. “Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with you?”

“I can think of quite a few” Clint shot back.

“Well, they’re idiots. You’re Clint Barton, you’re awesome!” Phil declared, a bit too loudly, his cheeks flushing once again as others around seemed to hear him and turn.

“Shhhh!” Clint laughed as he ducked his head.

His knee brushed with Phil’s again, but this time he just pushed back, comfortable and happy.

**

The End

 


End file.
